' The Baron only answered with a long pinch of snuff
and a glance of infinite contempt. But those noble allies, the Bear and
the Hen, had emancipated the young laird from the habitual reverence in
which he held Bradwardine at other times. He pronounced the claret
shilpit, and demanded brandy with great vociferation. It was brought; and
now the Demon of Politics envied even the harmony arising from this Dutch
concert, merely because there was not a wrathful note in the strange
compound of sounds which it produced. Inspired by her, the Laird of
Balmawhapple, now superior to the nods and winks with which the Baron of
Bradwardine, in delicacy to Edward, had hitherto checked his entering
upon political discussion, demanded a bumper, with the lungs of a
Stentor, 'to the little gentleman in black velvet who did such service in
1702, and may the white horse break his neck over a mound of his making!'
Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough to remember that King
William's fall, which occasioned his death, was said to be owing to his
horse stumbling at a mole-hill; yet felt inclined to take umbrage at a
toast which seemed, from the glance of Balmawhapple's eye, to have a
peculiar and uncivil reference to the Government which he served.
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